


Markiplier Makes: Soup (not sanctioned by actual Markiplier or affiliated parties)

by Dirade



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Awkwardness, Confessions, Cooking, Crushes, Crying, Embarrassment, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Secret Crush, Teasing, YouTube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 22:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15180488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dirade/pseuds/Dirade
Summary: Request: "Yeah, I really like the concept of Ethan having like a killer crush on Mark. Maybe you could write Ethan's POV being really awkward around Mark during a video and Mark thinking it was cute."Exactly that.





	Markiplier Makes: Soup (not sanctioned by actual Markiplier or affiliated parties)

**Author's Note:**

> So this was requested 46 days ago by john laurens (is my dead gay son), and I literally started it a few days after they requested it and finished it like two days ago. That's how long it takes me to write something... But here it is!  
> Anyways though, this was alot of fun to write and I hope people enjoy it! 
> 
> Also I tried to make this funny but I don't know if it worked.

Ethan has never considered himself to be a particularly subtle person. He prides himself on being outgoing, friendly, and maybe a little loud. 

Still, he has reservations when it comes to certain things. Like his massive crush on Mark, for instance. 

If he's really being honest with himself, he probably should have seen this coming. He's considered himself open to all options for a while now, so the fact that Mark was a guy wasn't any hindrance, and he's always been well aware that Mark is unfairly handsome. He knew he'd been attracted to Mark. He just didn't think it would be that much of an issue. He thought he would be able to push it down and ignore it until it passed, just like he'd done with every crush he's had over the past, well, forever. . .

But clearly he overestimated himself, because meeting Mark and getting to know him and becoming his friend was so much worse than Ethan ever could have imagined. 

Because Mark is amazing. He’s smart, kind, considerate, funny, everything he portrays in his videos but somehow better, because Ethan’s really part of it. Mark looks at Ethan when he speaks, laughs at his antics, knows his name. Sometimes it still strikes Ethan just how crazy this all is. 

As for his crush, it hasn't gone away. Not in the slightest. Instead, it's gotten indescribably worse. 

Ethan’s less than ecstatic about it. 

As previously mentioned, Ethan’s never been known for his subtlety. And yet, he likes to keep any and all romantic sentiments shoved deep down inside where he can safely, completely, and comfortably ignore them. Which all adds up to make him a blubbering, blushing mess when he's around his crush, while still staunchly refusing to admit his feelings. 

And that is, to say the least, an issue. 

It culminates during one of their collaborations. 

They’re doing another ‘Markiplier Makes’ video, this time making soup, and it’s already a disaster. They’ve barely started and Ethan is already stumbling over his words, a blush mottling his face to an embarrassing shade of pink. 

Right before they turn on the camera, Mark turns to him, a gentle concern on his face. “Everything alright, Eth? You’re kinda flushed. You’re not sick, are you?” He reaches out and, before Ethan can stop him, presses the back of his hand to Ethan’s forehead. “You’re pretty warm. Ty, what do you think?” Mark’s hand brushes the hair away from Ethan’s face as he moves aside to make room for Tyler, who looms over the both of them like some stony specter in Ethan’s blurry peripherals. 

Ethan bats Mark’s hand away, a stifling heat creeping over his face as he takes a step back. “I - I’m fine, Mark,” he insists, fighting down the flames racing beneath his skin. 

Mark looks at him skeptically before sharing a look with Tyler. “Ethan,” he says as he turns back to the youngest of the group. “We don't want you to push yourself if you're sick. You'll just make it worse.” 

“Mark,” Ethan says firmly, crossing his arms. “I told you, I'm fine. I'm not sick, I'm not overworking myself, and I'm  _ not  _ a kid.” He huffs, turning to the kitchen island and rearranging things pointlessly just so he won't have to look at Mark’s stupidly handsome face. “Can - can we just get started already?” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Ethan glimpses Mark and Tyler share another look and shrug at each other, but he doesn't acknowledge it and soon they’re all set up at their stations, getting ready to cook. 

“Hellooo, everybody. My name is Markiplier…” 

The first incident is relatively innocuous. Or rather, it would have been, if not for Ethan’s unfortunate crush. 

He's reaching for the knife, partly distracted by the idea that he has multiple layers of skin and how there aren't really nerve endings in the first few, which seems weird but which he supposes is a good adaptation, when his fingers brush over Mark’s hand, which is also reaching for the utensil. 

As soon as Ethan feels the faint warmth on his fingertips he jerks back like he's been burned, a full body flinch that actually propels him a step back from the counter. 

Mark jumps as well, but in response to Ethan’s reaction rather than their half second of contact. “Shit!” he exclaims, hands hovering in the air between the two of them, the knife forgotten. “Did I cut you?” Mark asks, even though neither of them actually touched the knife. 

“N - no,” Ethan stutters, holding his indeed uninjured hand close to his chest, his other hand wrapped around his own wrist. 

Mark frowns. “Are you sure? Why are you holding your hand like that?” 

Ethan opens his mouth but no sound comes out. 

“Let me see it,” Mark says, holding out his hand. 

“Wh- no! It’s fine!” Ethan blurts out, angling his body away from the other man. 

“Then let me see it,” Mark insists, brows furrowing. 

“No!” Ethan screeches.  

“Ethan,” Tyler says from behind him. “Just let Mark look at your hand. It’ll take like two seconds and I don’t want all of us to be eating your blood.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with my blood…” Ethan mutters, looking between the two. When neither man budges, Ethan holds out his hand with a sigh. 

Mark takes it, and Ethan’s heart skips a beat, robbing him of his breath, but he quickly pushes it down and does his best to keep his hand still as Mark turns it over, examining him carefully. Ethan tries not to concentrate on the warmth of Mark’s skin on his own, the almost imperceptible calluses on his hand that Ethan probably wouldn’t be able to feel if his senses weren’t dialed to 11 just because Mark is all but holding his hand. 

It’s getting harder to breathe, Ethan can feel his face heating up, and his entire body is starting to tingle. “See, I’m fine,” Ethan says, ignoring the way his voice cracks when he speaks and pulling away from Mark’s searching gaze and annoyingly warm hands. 

Mark tilts his head, but doesn't say anything, instead sharing another look with Tyler. They seem to be doing a lot of that lately. “If you're sure…” Mark starts before Ethan cuts in. 

“Yes!” He looks between his two friends, although neither of them look too convinced. “I'm  _ fine _ !” Ethan insists, sticking out his arms and flipping his hands over so they can both see his definitely intact flesh. “So can we just continue?” 

Mark head tilts his head farther to the side, until the angle looks almost uncomfortable. 

“Don't give me that look, Mark.” 

Ethan is really trying his best to peel this potato, but his hands have started shaking just enough to inhibit his speed. The peeler keeps making clicking sounds as the metal trembles in his grip, but he keeps going because the day he lets himself be beaten by a potato is the day he lays down to die. At least, that's what he tells himself when the potato slips out of his grip for the third time, making him groan in frustration. 

As he angles the tuber again he glances over at Mark to see how he's faring, and finds that the older man is already looking at him, brows furrowed. 

“What?” Ethan asks, glancing down at himself to make sure he's wearing all his clothes because one time he dreamt that they started filming a collab and he had forgotten to get dressed, and the thought had haunted him for days. But he’s fully clothed, and he only has a couple of pieces of potato skin on his shirt, so he doesn't know what Mark is looking at. 

“Do you need some help?” Mark says, quiet enough that if they weren't wearing clip-on mics the audio would simply blend into the background of the recording. 

“I - no,” Ethan splutters, though the clicking of the peeler speeds up fractionally. “I can do it myself.” 

“Clearly,” Mark deadpans, looking pointedly at his hands. “Just let me do it.” 

“I can do it!” Ethan protests, even as Mark puts his hand over one of Ethan’s. 

“You're shaking…” Mark says, raising an eyebrow. 

“I -” Ethan tries to respond but the words tangle inside of him. He can't concentrate on anything besides the gentle movement of Mark’s thumb rubbing back and forth across his knuckles. Why is Mark doing that? “Nervous,” Ethan squeaks finally, his own voice ringing in his ears. 

Mark opens his mouth to speak but suddenly Tyler is standing beside them, eyes darting between the two of them and their joined hands. “If you two are done proposing to each other, we have about three minutes left.” 

Ethan jerks back, but Mark just goes kind of still before flowing back into motion, not saying a word as he turns back to the counter. Ethan’s head is reeling, so he takes a moment to collect himself, going over to the sink and splashing water on his face. He’ll edit this all out later, so he takes another moment to compose himself before turning back to the chaos of the kitchen. 

At his station he sees a fully peeled potato, and next to that, Mark diligently peeling his own carrots. 

Ethan’s pouring broth into a measuring cup. He's doing it over the sink because he's started shaking again and the liquid keeps splashing over the sides of the cup. He's already managed to transfer one cup to his bowl, and as he's working on the second, a shadow falls over him. He turns his head to see Mark standing behind him. 

“Need some help?” Mark asks in a weak parody of his former words. Ethan thinks he sees something sly in the older man's eyes, but it's gone before he can be sure of it. 

“Um,” Ethan says eloquently. 

“Here,” Mark continues, stepping closer and PUTTING HIS ARMS AROUND ETHAN. He's pressed against Ethan’s back, hands cradling Ethan’s as Mark carefully keeps him steady, guiding him to pour the rest of the broth. 

“Mark!” Ethan hisses, though he keeps his hands still. “People are gonna think we're, like, a thing!” 

Mark leans down, his lips next to Ethan’s ear, and whispers, “Aren't we?” 

Ethan drops everything he's holding. 

The resulting clatter finally jolts him back to his senses, and he turns around to see Mark’s smug face staring back at him. He's about to snap back with something witty, maybe a little insulting, but the words refuse to leave his lips. He struggles for a few seconds, mouth working silently, before giving up and turning back to the sink, face aflame. As he cleans up the mess, he doesn't need to turn around to know that Mark has a self-satisfied grin on his face. 

The shrill sound of the alarm going off makes Ethan jump, and he stumbles sideways, straight into Mark. 

“Whoa, blue,” Mark says around a laugh, catching Ethan in his arms. “I've got you.” 

Ethan immediately straightens back up, levering himself away from Mark by pushing his hand into Mark’s chest. 

Mark raises an eyebrow at him, a sly smile playing across his lips. “Getting kinda handsy there, aren't we?” 

Ethan looks Mark straight in the eyes and says, “I hate you, I hate everything about you, my hate for you is unparalleled by any other emotion I have ever felt.” 

Mark just laughs. 

“Ok,” Tyler says a bit too loudly, slamming his hands into the table. “Since Amy and Katherine aren't here, we’ll have to be our own impartial judges. What are the categories?” 

“Well, taste, for one,” Mark says, leaning down so he can rest his elbow on the counter. 

“Edibility,” Tyler adds. 

“Edibility?!” Mark parrots back, head twitching. “They're all  _ edible. _ ” 

Now Tyler raises an eyebrow, locking eyes with Mark. “First of all, I watched you make this soup and let me tell you, some of that stuff is gonna be hard to swallow. Secondly, it’s not just edibility. I know we can  _ technically _ eat all of these. It's just, how hard is it to get down, is it healthy, you know, that kind of stuff.” 

Mark huffs. “Okay, I guess…” he mutters with a put-upon sigh. 

Ethan snickers quietly, causing Mark to switch his focus from one man to the other. “What about you, Ethan?” he asks. “What do you think the final category should be?” 

“Uh…” Ethan starts, distracted by the light-swallowing darkness of Mark’s eyes. “Aesthetics? Like, how good it looks?” he manages, despite his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. 

Mark grins. “Of the soup or the chef?” 

Ethan wants to say something, even opens his mouth to do so, but the words are stolen by the rush of blood that travels to his face, turning his cheeks pink. 

“Mark,” Tyler says, a hint of warning in his voice. 

Mark straightens up, pushing himself off the counter and smiling at the camera as if the whole exchange had never happened. “Anyway, now that we've decided on our categories, let’s start judging.” Mark claps his hands together, looking over the line of pots. Let's start with appearance! I'll go first.” Mark rolls his shoulders like he's warming up for a big race, rotating his head to stretch out his neck before gesturing to his pot. “What you'll see here is a nice, clean finish. All the ingredients are finely chopped, the texture is uniform, and it is a lovely shade of rose red, just like blue boy over here.” 

Ethan chokes on his own spit. Mark is staring straight at him, and Ethan feels like he's being peeled apart layer by layer beneath that burning gaze, until his frantically beating heart is exposed for all the world to see. He doesn't hear anything that Tyler, who doesn't hesitate to practically bellow his description to the camera, says. Instead, Ethan just stares at his own soup, trying in vain to fight down the blush on his cheeks. 

He realizes belatedly that the room is silent. He jerks his head up to look at Mark, who’s still smiling, and then immediately flicks his gaze over to Tyler, who’s also smiling, but with less glee and a little more gentleness. “You’re turn, blue,” Tyler says quietly, too soft for the camera to hear. 

Ethan takes strength from the stability of Tyler's presence, the knowledge that someone is looking out for him. It's not that he doesn't feel the same way about Mark, he knows that Mark would support him through any hardship, but thinking about the object of his affection is a bit much for him right now. 

Ethan takes a deep breath before speaking, staring down at his soup. “Mine is a golden broth, um, with chunks of vegetables for color. It has lots of color,” he finishes conclusively, although in truth the meal is only three colors: brownish-yellow, green, and the vibrant orange of carrots. 

“Well, I think you're very cute,” Mark says unabashedly. 

“Mark!” Ethan squeaks at the same time that Tyler lets sighs the same name, burying his face in his hands. 

“What?!” Mark screeches. “I thought we were judging the soup  _ and  _ the chef!” 

Tyler sinks further into the table as Ethan stutters out a feeble, “Th-thanks.” 

“Can we please move on to the next category?” Tyler says from behind his hands, the words muffled by his palms. 

“You're just jealous,” Mark mumbles, but the three of them each manage to get through their ‘healthy’ descriptions, mostly referencing any veggies used in their respective dishes, without incident before starting the final round. 

Mark claps his hands together as Ethan finishes his spiel. “Alright boys, on to the true test of our culinary prowess! Taste!” 

As with their previous categories, they go with Mark’s dish first. They each get a heaping spoonful and take a sip. 

“Delicious,” Mark says around a grimace. 

Tyler swallows loudly before saying, “It's not… awful?” 

The taste of tomato is almost overwhelming on Ethan’s tongue, and as he swallows it down, he feels something hard stuck between his teeth. Wiggling his tongue into the slight gap, he manages to pry loose something smooth and roundish, and when he delicately plucks it from his tongue, he finds himself holding a tomato seed. 

“What do you think, Ethan?” Tyler asks. 

Ethan holds out the seed. “I think there was a seed in mine…” 

Mark lets out a sound that can only be described as a giggle, then says, his voice distorted by laughter, “D-do ya like the taste of my se-ed?” before dissolving into convulsing cackles. 

Ethan just stares at him with wide eyes while Tyler tries, and fails, to suppress his grin. 

Before Mark has even recovered from his last mirthful gasps, they've moved on to Tyler’s soup, which Mark remarks is “creamy” and Ethan says, almost hesitantly, is “floury?” 

Finally the three of them get to Ethan’s dish, which is looking, to its creator at least, less and less appetizing as the threat of actual consumption increases. They all take a spoonful. 

Ethan tilts his head. It's not nearly as bad as he was expecting. It's somehow too salty and too bland at the same time, but overall mostly palatable. 

“Not bad,” Tyler comments, before the two of them turn to Mark. 

“Well,” Mark says, a shark-like grin splitting his face as he stares at Ethan, “I think you taste great.” 

Heat flares in Ethan cheeks and he feels heat crawl down his neck, beneath his collar, spreading through his body until even his fingers seem to tingle with agitation. “Th - thanks,” he whispers weakly, looking down at his soup. 

“Hey, look at me,” Mark says, a strange, almost gentle quality to his voice. Except, gentle isn't quite the right word. There's a hint of something sharp to it, something like sarcasm and satire but not quite as biting. It's vanilla and peppermint, a knife buried in rose petals, and Ethan obeys without thinking, a twitch of discomfort pulling at the base of his skull. “I wanna see those pretty eyes.” 

“Mark,” Tyler says, sturdy and steely and with that hint of warning again. 

“What?” Mark asks innocently, leaning forward on the counter so he's closer to Ethan and almost even with Tyler. “Don't you think blue boy over here makes a cute chef?” 

Mark’s making fun of him. 

The thought hits Ethan suddenly and without warning, filling his entire body with the hot prickle of shame before he can even fully process the idea. Mark knows that Ethan has a crush on him and is making fun of him. 

Tyler is saying something, but Ethan doesn't hear it. Mark wanted to make this video. Mark asked him to come over and film it with them. Mark wanted Ethan to be here so he and Tyler could laugh at him together, laugh at how pathetic and stupid Ethan was for getting a crush on his mentor and friend and - shit. Now they know he's gay - he's not even gay, he's bi but either way they're going to hate him for it, he doesn't think Mark has any gay friends and he's always so adamant about being straight, all of them are, what if they think he's gross and wrong and disgusting and they just don't say those things online? What if Mark’s going to kick him out after this? Where can Ethan go? He doesn't know anyone else in LA, all his friends are also Mark’s friends, what if they all know and they all hate him? What if his fans find out? What if his family hates him because he lost the chance of a lifetime and screwed it all up with a stupid crush? What if he has no one left at the end of this? 

The panic fills Ethan’s ears with static and the frantic sound of his own heartbeat, but he still manages to look up and see Mark wink at him. That's the tipping point. All of his embarrassment and shame and fear wells up inside of him, choking him, and suddenly his eyes are burning, his throat working around nothing, and he knows he's going to cry. 

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Ethan manages to get out before turning on his heel and practically sprinting away. His vision blurs as he races away from the kitchen, tears finally spilling over as he slams the bathroom door shut behind himself and clicks the lock into place. He lets out a single, wet gasp before covering his mouth with his hand, sinking his teeth into his skin just enough to sting. 

His breath shudders as it leaves his chest, but he tries his best to be quiet, swiping at his eyes until he can see again. There's not too many tears - he's not sobbing - but still, he feels like his insides are trembling, unstable, a feeble imitation of his pounding heartbeat. 

He sits in the darkness for a handful of stolen moments, forcing himself to take deep breaths even though his throat aches in protest. 

A knock on the bathroom door breaks the rhythm Ethan’s created for himself, and he scrambles to his feet as the sound jolts him from his reverie. 

“Ethan?” Tyler’s voice says from the other side of the door. “Are you in there?” 

Ethan swallows painfully, flicking on the light. He's sure Tyler saw the illumination through the cracks of the door, but he's already seen Ethan on the edge of tears, so knowing that Ethan was sitting in the dark can't be that much of a surprise. 

Ethan looks at himself in the mirror, listening to Tyler shuffling around outside the bathroom. Ethan’s eyes are rimmed in red, tired and worn, but nothing a few hours and a cup of coffee won't fix. He can play this off, can't he? 

Then something else occurs to him. Tyler kept scolding Mark for his overt advances, and when Mark and Ethan got a little too close Tyler had abruptly changed the topic, ushering them along to the next activity. Maybe Tyler is uncomfortable with either - any - of them being gay, even if it is just for the camera or a big joke. It would make sense. Tyler's always been uncomfortable with shipping; maybe that had less to do with the pairs being his friends and more to do with them being male. Maybe Tyler’s always felt uncomfortable with the ever-changing landscape of sexuality. Maybe Tyler will hate Ethan for having any modicum of homosexuality in him, bi or not. 

Ethan wouldn't blame him. He can't tell someone to stop being uncomfortable with something. He can't say that his wants should be put above Tyler’s. And even if he could, it wouldn't matter. He's nothing to these men, these Titans. If he ever seemed to think otherwise, they could just throw him aside. How could he ever imagine that his own desires, his own comfort, could matter to people like them? 

Tyler’s voice floats through the door. “You okay in there?” 

“Yeah,” Ethan calls back, splashing his face with cold water. 

“Are you sure?” Tyler asks, and Ethan can practically imagine the single eyebrow raised in skepticism. “Can you come out then?” 

_ Come out indeed,  _ Ethan thinks to himself as he pats his face dry with a hand towel. His eyes still look a little pink, but some part of him, a small voice he's suppressed as the years have gone by, speaks for the first time in a long while, a hand on his shoulder and the memory of sunlight on his face, and it tells him it's time, finally, to face the music. 

He opens the door and Tyler is staring down at him, brow creased in worry. Before the taller man can speak, Ethan feels words rush out of him, spilling over without his assent. 

“Do you hate me?” 

The corners of Tyler’s eyes go soft, his eyebrows arching upwards rather than inwards. “Of course not, Ethan. Why would you think that?” 

He doesn't sound like he's lying. 

“I just…” Ethan shifts, pulls at his sleeves. “When Mark was…” 

“Flirting?” Tyler supplies helpfully. 

Ethan glances up at Tyler, trying to catch a reaction, but his expression hasn't changed. “Y - yeah, I guess… But you, uh, you seemed, um, uncomfortable, maybe?” Ethan can't look Tyler in the eyes, so instead he stares at the ground. “Like, it seemed like you wanted Mark to stop and you kept changing the subject and stuff? Maybe I'm just reading too much into it -” 

“Ethan,” Tyler interrupts, and when Ethan jerks his head up to look at him, there's a smile on Tyler’s face. “I did that because I knew something like this would happen. I thought it was making  _ you  _ uncomfortable. And,” Tyler adds, a soft chuckle escaping his lips, “I know you've got a huge crush on Mark.” 

Ethan feels his stomach twist. “ You knew?” he whispers, the words like ash on his tongue. 

“You're not the most subtle person,” Tyler responds with a grin. “And it was kind of hard to miss the longing stares and wistful sighs.” 

“I do not stare at him longingly!” Ethan exclaims, shoving Tyler back a step. 

Tyler laughs. “So you admit to the wistful sighs?” 

Ethan huffs. “Fuck you, Tyler.” 

“I think you'd rather fuck Mark…” Tyler mumbles. 

“Tyler!” Ethan screeches. “No! Absolutely no, no - stop it. No. We are not going there, absolutely not. Stop smiling.” Ethan has to stare Tyler down sternly for another handful of seconds before the smirk tapers down to an acceptable quirk of the lips.

Tyler’s gaze is softer, now, almost pitying as he speaks again. “You should talk to Mark.” 

“No,” Ethan says immediately, shaking his head. “I can't tell Mark. Mark cannot know, ever. Tyler, if you tell him, I'll fucking kill you.” 

“You don't have to tell him,” Tyler placates, leaning into the wall. “Just go talk to him. He was kinda worried when you ran out of the room. We both were.” 

Ethan sighs, avoiding Tyler’s eyes. “Alright, fine,” he mutters, crossing his arms. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Tyler grin. 

When the two reenter the kitchen, Ethan sees Mark standing over the bowls of soup, rubbing at his hands, his wrists, staring at the assorted liquids like God himself might rise again from the discolored broth. 

“Mark?” Ethan asks, stopping a few paces away from the counter. 

Mark's head jerks up, his hands going still. “Ethan!” 

“Hi…” Ethan mumbles, feeling that now familiar flush crawl over his skin. “Sorry about running out before. I - well, Tyler, actually - he -” Ethan turns to look at the aforementioned man, but Tyler has vanished completely, like some strange apparition or, more likely, because he wanted to give Mark and Ethan a little privacy. “Is gone,” Ethan finishes after doing a final visual sweep of the room, refocusing on Mark. “He said that you, um, were worried?” 

“Yeah,” Mark affirms, rubbing at his own arm in an oddly nervous gesture that Ethan’s never seen before. “I just - look, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or upset or anything. I was just teasing you because, well…” 

Ethan feels his heartbeat pulse in his throat. Is Mark blushing? “Yeah?” 

“I… thought it was cute.” Mark is looking at the floor, the mumble of his words starting to blur together. “Tyler said you might have a crush on me and I kinda feel the same way but I thought he might be wrong so I was just trying to test it out and you were so cute when you got all flustered and I couldn't help it, y’know? I’m sorry.” 

Ethan can't do anything except stare at Mark in disbelief. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. 

“Ethan?” Mark asks cautiously. 

“I think I'm in love with you,” Ethan blurts, immediately followed by a wave of horror that makes him slap his palm over his mouth. 

Mark just blinks at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. 

And then Ethan starts laughing too, loud, bubbling laughter that fills up his entire body until he aches in the best kind of way. 

The two of them are doubled over, gasping, crying, laughing at the ridiculousness of the whole situation, and Ethan knows now that whatever happens, he'll be okay. 

Finally the laughter dwindles into hiccuping grins, and the two men look at each other, both out of breath. 

“So,” Ethan says. 

“So,” Mark echoes.  

Ethan gestures between them. “Us?” 

Mark’s smile grows. For a moment, Ethan is struck by the thought that it is like sunlight spilling from his face, warm, lively, and brilliant. “Yeah,” Mark replies. “I think I could do that.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I am debating making this available to Archive users only, since I know that not everyone likes to see RPF stuff and this is definitely more shippy than my other works. So, John Laurens, if you have an Ao3 please tell me below (if you don't I'll just leave it public, no problem), or if anyone else would like me to leave it public to all, just leave a comment down below so I know. Thanks!


End file.
